


Papa, stay

by allstoriesintheend



Series: In The Golden Afternoon [5]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Crazy Mad Hatter | Jefferson, Jefferson In Wonderland, Wonderland
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 12:20:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2547278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allstoriesintheend/pseuds/allstoriesintheend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That was all he had to do. All he had to do was stay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Papa, stay

 

 

                The wailing in the crib was too much for him to bear. He had wanted to move as soon as his daughter started with her small whimpers, but the arm around his waist had prevented him from doing so. Now, he couldn’t take it. Easing himself out of bed, he moved across the room to his daughter’s crib. Gentle hands reached to pick her up, holding her close to him to soothe her tears.  
  
                “Shh, baby girl. Shh. Papa’s here.”

                Her little tears soaked through his nightshirt as he rubbed circles on her back, but they soon began to stop. Walking out of the bedroom, his footsteps were quiet as he travelled through their dark home.  
  
                “Twas brillig, and the slithy toves, did gyre and gimble in the wabe,” he whispered to her, listening to her now tiny hiccups while he settled into the one place that would make her fall asleep no matter what – the rocking chair.  
  
                “All mimsy were the borogoves, and the Mome Raths outgrabe.”  
  
                As he seated himself in the old chair, his daughter began to settle into his arms. Soon, her big brown eyes were staring up at him, meeting his own tired blue ones. Still, a small smile formed on his face when her thumb found its way into her mouth, and she began to suck quietly.  
  
                “You like Papa’s stories, don’t you? Papa and his silly stories,” he murmured to her, moving his feet so that the chair would start to rock. A quiet gurgle was the response he received, and with the same quiet tone he had used before, he continued his tale.  
  
                It wasn’t long before her eyelids began to droop, and her thumb fell out of her mouth. Sleep met his daughter in kind, but that didn’t bring the end to his words. It was only when he came toward the end of the poem that the chair stopped moving.  
  
                “Oh frabjous day, callooh, callay, he chortled in his joy.” he whispered, lifting his arms so that he could place a gentle kiss on his sleeping girl’s forehead. Her blonde wisps were starting to form curls, and her cheeks had hints of soft freckles on them. Every day, he noticed something new about his daughter. His gaze was never anything but love, and that didn’t change no matter what time of day she woke him with her cries. He glanced over her face once more before he moved as slowly and silently as he could, bringing her back to the bedroom. He decided against putting her back in her crib – it was something he had been against from the start, keeping her away from them – and moved back to his place in the bed instead. He placed his daughter down first, keeping her safely between himself and the sleeping form on the opposite side of the bed.                

                Another kiss found its way to her forehead as he got himself comfortable, lying on his side so he could look at her. Fingers that didn’t know callouses yet found their way to the soft blonde curls that his daughter was starting to get, and Jefferson felt his eyes grow heavy as his mouth curled into a soft, exhausted smile.  
  
                “Papa’s here, Grace. Papa’s staying right here.”  
  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

                Jefferson rubbed his hands together, trying to chase the numbness in his fingers away. The chill had been creeping in since the sun had set, and now it was taking over the room. A little cough from the bed drew his attention, making him get up from the rickety old chair. Barely visible beneath the pile of blankets was his daughter, with her blonde hair spread across the pillow. With the amount of blankets on her, Grace should have been warm, but the shivers that he could see running through her told a different story. His little girl was sick, and it was only getting worse with each passing day. Jefferson was at a loss for what to do. He had tried to find plants in the forest that he knew would at least ease the pain, but there was little else that he could do except wait. Often at night he found himself asking for help, pleading for somebody that he knew was never going to come back. Death had taken her away from him and now he worried that the same thing would happen to Grace. He wouldn’t be able to cope if he lost his daughter too. He promised to keep her safe, and at the moment he was failing that promise.  
  
                Another cough made him tuck the blankets around her tighter, hearing her whimper in her sleep. Grace should have been sweating at the very least, but the trembling of her body seemed to quicken with each shaky breath.  
  
                “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ll make it warmer, I promise.”  
  
He made sure that her stuffed Turtle toy was tucked in with her before he moved away from the bed, taking a deep breath. He wouldn’t be long. After all, it was only a few minutes’ walk from their hut to where he chopped their firewood. Now that they had moved to a quieter area, it was safer. Grace would be okay. He would only be a couple of minutes.  
  
                The cold hit him harder than he expected when he stepped out of the door. His coat was already buttoned up as much as he possibly could, and his fingers that had just got feeling back into them were wrapped around the handle of an axe that was waiting to be used. Taking one deep breath, Jefferson started walking away from the hut, with his teeth chattering every few steps. _Just a couple of pieces of wood_ , he reminded himself, _and Grace will be warm again._ That’s what he needed to focus on.  
  
                Reaching the small pile of logs he had waiting, he glanced over his shoulder. Grace was fine. Nobody knew who he was in this town. If nobody knew, then his Grace was safe. She wouldn’t suffer the same fate that her mother had only weeks ago. Brushing the soft blanket of snow from the tree stump, he placed the log down and prepared himself to swing the axe. The noise rang through the forest, breaking the silence. When noises started to answer him, Jefferson hurried to place another log down to split. Six or seven would keep them going through the night and the next day, and then he could get more before night fell the following evening. Quickly, he brought the axe down again and created another loud noise through the woods, this time earning more in response. His fingers had long since been numb, so the hold on the axe was loose as he readied himself for the next swing.  
  
                “Papa?”  
  
Grace’s soft voice made the axe slip out of his hands. Jefferson had to jump backward to avoid it as it hit the ground, with his wild, blue eyes looking straight in front of him. His daughter was in nothing but her nightdress and boots, and he could see the trembles running through her little body. In an instant, Jefferson was pulling off his coat and wrapping it around her, scooping her up into his arms.  
  
                “You’re freezing, Grace,” Stammering, he held her close to him to try and chase away the shivers away. Grace curled into him, hooking her arms around his neck in the strongest hold she could manage. Jefferson felt the trembles start to grow and a momentary panic crossed his mind – was the cold getting to her already? – until he felt his neck began to grow wet. Grace had started to cry.  
  
                “Baby girl,” Jefferson whispered to her, rubbing soothing circles on her back. “What’s wrong?”  
  
                “Gone,” Grace managed between her tears. “L-like Ma-ma.”  
  
                A lump formed almost instantly in his throat, making him quickly shake his head while trying to swallow. Gone. She had thought he had disappeared too. She had thought that she was alone. Tears pricked his eyes, and he had to fight to keep them from falling and worrying Grace even further.  
  
                “I couldn’t leave you, sweetheart.” His voice was beginning crack, but he continued to fight it. “I’m not going to go away.”  
  
                “N-not like Mam-a?” She was starting to ease her cries, now being brave enough to pull away from his neck to look at his face. Her little hands touched his cheeks, and the fear in her eyes met the worry in his own.  
  
                “Not like Mama, baby girl. Papa’s not going to leave you.”  
  
                “Pr-promise?”  
  
In response, Jefferson pressed a kiss to her forehead. Grace went back to holding him around his neck, and he managed to pick up two of the logs he had chopped to take back to their hut. Hopefully two was enough for the night. He could come back for the rest of the pieces when dawn broke. Grace wouldn’t be so terrified if it was light, would she? Adjusting so he had his daughter in one arm and the logs in the other, he started the short journey back to their short home.  
  
                Grace was still sniffling even after Jefferson had shut the door and assured her that he wasn’t going to leave. The fire had started to heat up the hut by the time that Jefferson turned to tuck his daughter into bed, only to receive a sharp tug on the sleeve of his shirt.  
  
                “Papa, no. Stay.”  
  
He couldn’t deny what she asked of him. One look into those big, brown eyes – eyes so like her mother’s, which made another lump form in his throat – and he would do whatever Grace asked of him. Jefferson eased back the blankets until he found the bed, slipping in beside Grace. The four year old immediately latched onto her father, curling her hands into his shirt and resting her head on his chest. Once he had made sure she was properly tucked in beside him, his hand came up to stroke her hair and lull her into an almost slumber.  
  
                “Love you, Papa.” Grace yawned and nuzzled closer to him, allowing sleep to win in their little battle. Jefferson’s own yawn overtook him as he gave a final glance to the burning fire, silently wishing that it would make his daughter feel better in the morning. His words became a quiet whisper before he allowed sleep to win, stroking Grace’s blonde locks.  
  
                “Papa loves you too, sweetheart. More than anything in all the worlds.”  
  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
                Guilt began to eat through him the moment that Jefferson saw the worried gaze in his daughter’s eyes. She didn’t want him to go. The two had never been apart before, not like this. Everywhere Jefferson went, Grace came too. He had promised her that he wouldn’t ever leave her on her own, and that was a promise that remained true – up until this day. Now, he needed to leave her. Where he was going was the one place he never wanted her to go.  
  
                Her eyes didn’t leave him as he walked around the small table to crouch down beside her. His words did little to soothe her – she had a fire in her, even at this young age.  
  
                “All I need is you, Papa. Please stay.”  
  
                But he couldn’t. His baby girl needed things that he could no longer find the means to provide. He had ran out of things to sell, things that should have been Grace’s when she was older, and he was beginning to struggle to keep up with the rate his daughter was growing. He couldn’t afford to buy fabrics to make clothes again, not with Grace needing so much. Any scraps of material he did have went into making mismatched toys for her tea parties; terrible excuses for any real kind of toy that he could no longer buy her. A glance at the rabbit across from them was all he needed. Grace deserved better than that. Grace deserved real toys and clothes that fit her properly. Grace deserved to have a decent meal every night. Grace deserved to have what she needed and what she wanted, and doing this one simple job for the Queen would get her that. Grace could have the life that she deserved.  
  
                “Promise me you’ll come back. You have to promise.”  
  
                Of course he was going to come back. He was going to exchange his previous promise to this new one, and he was coming back. He wouldn’t leave his baby girl alone in this world. There was nothing that could stop him. They would be together the moment he came back, and Grace would want for nothing. She could have everything she needed – and everything she deserved. For his baby girl, there was nothing he wouldn’t do.  
  
                He only shut the door once he saw Grace disappear into the neighbour’s hut.  He could do this. Just one more jump, and everything would be okay. He could give his daughter the life she should have always had. They wouldn’t struggle anymore.  
  
Just one more jump.  
  
That was all it would take.  
  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
                _‘One more jump! One more jump! Jump, Jefferson, jump!’_  
  
                “Stop. Please… Please stop.” __  
  
                Pinpricked fingers tugged at his brown curls, making him grunt in frustration. A malicious laugh echoed around the room, hitting the stone walls and coming back to him a thousand times worse than it had been when it started. Jefferson’s whimpered pleas didn’t deter the voice from its taunts.  
  
                _‘All I need is you, Papa! All I need is you!’_  
  
                “Please –”  
  
                _‘Please, he says! Gracie said Please! Please stay, Gracie said! Please, please, please!’_  
  
                “I didn’t –”  
  
                _‘Broke his promise, he did! Broke, broke, broke! Left Gracie alone, he did!’_  
  
                “Shut up!”  
  
                Now his voice was the one echoing off the walls. Wild blue eyes snapped back open, looking for the voice that was tormenting him. Of course he was there. He always was. He had been there the moment he started to have his head reattached, and now he was here to stay.  
  
                _‘Angry, are we? Naughty, naughty. It’s our own fault, it is. Jefferson’s fault.’_  
  
                “I didn’t mean to leave her.” His teeth grinded together as he spoke, causing pain to shoot up his jaw. His tormentor knew how to work him, of course. That was why he was there, wasn’t it?  To remind Jefferson of what he had done wrong.  
  
                One more jump, it had been. One more jump had become his last jump. The Queen – no, not the _Queen_ , that woman was called _Regina_ – had trapped him here. Trapped him in a world where he could never be with his daughter. He broken his promise to her, and now he was getting what he deserved.  
  
                _‘Poor Gracie. Cries for her Papa, wants him to come home. Go home, Jefferson, go home.’_  
  
                “You know that I can’t.”  
  
                The room shifted. The voice took a cruel, sharp turn. A turn that had Jefferson scrambling to the corner of the room, his hands finding themselves tangled in his hair again to try and protect himself. His tormentor was inches away, leering at him. Fear filled Jefferson’s gaze, while malice filled the face in front of him.  
  
_‘Get it to work!’_  
  
                The bellow was enough to make Jefferson shudder, sliding down into the corner even further. Hands tried to cover his ears, but hands flew up and caught them, tightening their hold on his wrists to force his hands away from himself.  
  
                _‘Get it to work!’_  
  
                “I can’t!”  
  
                Jefferson struggled against the iron grip on his wrists, but it was to no avail. He couldn’t win. He couldn’t ever win.  
  
                _‘Get!’_  
  
                Nails broke his skin, drawing blood to the surface. The red liquid began to run down his wrists, staining the rolled up sleeves of his shirt.  
  
                _‘It!’_  
  
                He squeezed his eyes shut, trying in vain to block out the voice. If he couldn’t see his tormentor, then maybe he wouldn’t be able to hear them either.  
  
                _‘To!’_  
  
                The puckered red line that encircled his neck began to burn, making him want to itch it until he made it red and raw again. His fingers twitched helplessly, now losing the will to fight.  
  
                _‘Work!’_  
  
                The hands let him go and Jefferson’s hands immediately flew to his neck, scratching until the pain was soothed. The laughter began to echo around the room again, sending shivers up Jefferson’s spine. It continued even after Jefferson’s hands left the now raw scar and his arms had wrapped themselves around his knees as he pulled them up to his chest. He began to rock, keeping his eyes down while the laughter chased any coherent thought out of his mind. He couldn’t get it to work.  
  
He couldn’t.  
  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
                Turning his gaze to the Guard beside the cell door, the Page came away from the bars that let him see the Hatter. Even on this side of the door, the laughter was filling the hall, making even the Guard uncomfortable.  
  
                “How long as it been?”  
  
                “Three days.”  
  
                “Her Majesty wishes him to stay here for three more. Watch him. Don’t let him damage his hands again, or your head shall be the next to find the moat.”  
  
                The Guard nodded silently, watching the Page as he left. It was only after the red tails of his coat had gone that the Guard stepped toward the door, looking through the bars.  
  
The Hatter’s arms were curled around his legs as he rocked back and forth.  
  
His eyes were cast down, watching the floor of his cell.  
  
And the laughter that was echoing the halls continued to pour out of the Hatter’s mouth. 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on the way I've constructed my RP of Jefferson (@CursedHatter) and his madness.


End file.
